


Wake Up

by runicmagitek



Category: Final Fantasy IV
Genre: Background Cecil/Kain/Rosa, Hurt/Comfort, Injury Recovery, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Pre-Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-18 11:55:06
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 737
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29982477
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/runicmagitek/pseuds/runicmagitek
Summary: “We were training,” Kain explains, “and we amassed quite the crowd this time. I think we were starting to show off.” A pause, then, “At leastIwas.”“Sounds like a normal session for us.”He imagines Kain rolls his eyes. Maybe he isn’t, but Cecil enjoys the mental image all the same.Cecil is injured from one of their spars, but Kain keeps him company while recovering.
Relationships: Cecil Harvey/Kain Highwind
Kudos: 6
Collections: Final Fantasy Kiss Battle 2021





	Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

  * For [seventhe](https://archiveofourown.org/users/seventhe/gifts).



> For the prompt: forgivenessz

He remembers the crisp, blue sky above the courtyard. Then nothing.

And then softness brushes his forehead, settling between his brows. Hot, shallow breaths wash over Cecil—enough of a nudge to sober him to consciousness.

But it is the trembling voice that whips him back to reality.

“Cecil, please. Wake up. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean for this to happen.”

He blinks his hazy eyes open, long lashes meeting another’s face. He recognizes the rich scent first—like the autumn’s wind mixed with a worn hearth—then the voice.

“Kain?” he squeezes out as his vision adjusts.

A gentle gasp, next a jerk. The warmth lifts from Cecil’s forehead until his dear friend looms beside him. Tears swell in his eyes along with blush on his cheeks.

“What are you doing here?” Cecil asks, tilting his head to scan their surroundings, only to rouse nausea from the simple motion.

Kain instinctively presses a hand into Cecil’s shoulder. “We’re in the infirmary. You had a bad fall during training.” He scoffs and shakes his head. “It’s my fault you’re here.”

“You’re fault?” Cecil tries to sit up, but Kain pins him down. Another time, he might have argued, but his head throbs and vision blurs. “Kain, what happened?”

He at least can tell when Kain’s eyes widen. “You don’t remember?”

“Not exactly. I was hoping you could tell me.”

Kain stiffens, averts his gaze, and withdraws. Cecil doesn’t have the wits to grasp his wrist and keep him close.

“We were training,” Kain explains, “and we amassed quite the crowd this time. I think we were starting to show off.” A pause, then, “At least _I_ was.”

“Sounds like a normal session for us.”

He imagines Kain rolls his eyes. Maybe he isn’t, but Cecil enjoys the mental image all the same.

“You had the audacity to come to training without a helmet, though. So when I jumped, I expected you to dodge, but when you didn’t, I had to correct my landing at the last second. We both crashed, but then—”

Cecil doesn’t remember their spar, but he remembers something else, instead.

A month ago, perhaps longer, Kain had mentioned Cecil’s hair growing out. Almost long enough to pull into a low ponytail. Cecil mistook his teasing for loathing. He could cut it, sooner than later. Keep it out of his face while fighting.

But Kain had closed the space between them and tucked loose locks behind Cecil’s ear.

“ _This,_ ” Kain had murmured. “ _This suits you._ ”

Once Cecil deemed it long enough, he discarded his helmet and allowed his white hair to flow. Besides, how many times had they sparred? Neither slipped before and Cecil silently swore to never harm his friend; he simply wished to impress him beyond combat maneuvers.

But they are still young and stupid enough to land one of them in the infirmary. And Cecil can’t help but chuckle at the predicament.

Kain furrows his brows and glares, like always. “Cecil, this isn’t a laughing matter.”

“No, I guess it’s not.” He lifts a hand to skim the bandages around his head, but settles along his forehead. “Suppose I should remember my helmet from now on?”

Now he can see Kain rolling his eyes. “Please do. I’d like to avoid a repeat performance of… of _this_.”

“But did you notice, at least?”

“Notice… what?”

He cannot tell if it’s fatigue or whatever potions he was given that leaves him teetering on consciousness. With what strength remains, Cecil paws the cot until he finds a bare hand to fit into his hand. He guides it to the loose waves framing his face.

Fingers sift through his hair, then curl into his cheek. Words fail him, but he eases into the palm caressing him and presses a gentle, yet long kiss into the calloused skin.

Then he remembers nothing, again.

But when he opens his eyes, lit candles illuminate the space and Rosa sits beside him, holding his free hand and kissing the knuckles. When their eyes meet, she perks up and reaches not for Cecil, but someone else.

Kain is slumping over him and asleep, the hand once holding Cecil’s face now resting over his heart. Rosa jostles him awake and he jerks upright. She giggles and kisses his shoulder to soothe his agitation, but it’s when Kain locks eyes with him—awake, at last—and smiles that the anxiety lifts and fades.


End file.
